a father and his child
by terabient
Summary: Raphael, Siegfried, and six meetings: five times they crossed blades, and the one time they did not. :for the meme of five; complete:
1. something wonderful

(i probably shouldn't have written this, all things considered: i can't write a fight scene for anything.)

**a father and his child**

* * *

**i. something wonderful**

* * *

Raphael's first encounter with Nightmare is a year after the rain of the Evil Seed, a month after he met the girl who saved his life, and the night he finally takes her away from Rouen.

The night is cloudy and dark, the full moon nearly obscured by the storm rolling in; the air is damp and smells of rain. They travel lightly, with only the clothes on their backs and his rapier and each other.

They travel through the darkened woods, avoiding the roads. The roads would always be a danger for a wanted man like Raphael, but this night they are doubly so: there are rumors of the Azure Knight approaching, and the populace has been stirred into a frenzy; the thoroughfares are clogged with terrified civilians desperate to escape the coming horde. This, of course, makes them easy pickings; when the rumors are made fact they are the first to fall, the wails of the dying cutting through the air. Amy, whom he holds close and safe in his arms, shivers at the sound. Raphael murmurs into her ear to soothe her, bits of a lullaby about sleeping well and waking to sunshine, but he does not remember all the words and makes them up as they run. Even so, she nestles closer, and her shaking ceases.

The woods are not safe. They both hear the heavy lumbering steps of inhuman things creeping in the darkness, but they are fast and well-hidden by the shadows and are not caught. Eventually they come to a clearing, and though nothing is there Raphael knows they will be easily seen by those lurking in the darkness - and easier to run down. But they do not have the time to work around it, so he takes a deep breath and races across the moon-flooded clearing. They are halfway across and Raphael allows himself to think they may be safe; then something huge and hideous emerges from the shadows and Raphael freezes.

The Azure Knight stares at them, red eyes ember bright in the blueblack cavern of his helm, with an arm like a broken twisted tree limb creaking as its fingers twist into something like a fist. The forest is silent, the only sound the clatter of metal against metal as the knight approaches. Raphael lowers Amy to the ground, shielding her as best he can from Nightmare's burning eyes. "Amy," he whispers, "when you get a chance, I want you to run away as fast as you can, and do not wait for me._" _Raphael draws Flambert with a steel shiver. "I will follow once I have dealt with this ugly creature."

The monstrous creature's eyes narrow; then he throws his head back, cold laughter erupting from his throat. "You think you can challenge me? _Defeat _me?" The knight draws his sword, looking more like the mutilated corpse of some animal than an actual blade. "I'll be glad to show you the error of your ways." Nightmare leaps forward, swinging his sword in a wide arc. Raphael does not expect the knight to move so fast, and while he is able to block the attack the sheer force behind it throws him off-balance; he barely manages to avoid Nightmare's following strike.

It does not take long for Raphael to realize, bitterly, how limited his sword training really is; he is used to firm, dry stone beneath his feet, not damp grass and soft mud that causes his feet to slip and buckle; he has never fought opponents that seem made of metal and turn away every strike of his sword. A small part of him realizes, horribly, that he may not be able to defeat this man, and as if sensing Raphael's confidence wane the Azure Knight laughs again - then swings his sword around like a paddle, the heavy weight of it smashing into Raphael's body and sending him to the ground.

Trembling, Raphael tries to rise, but pain shoots through him from fresh-broken bones and he screams, writhing in pain. He hears an answering cry, much lighter and higher, come from somewhere near him, and his heart sinks - Amy is still here, he could not protect her.

Amy runs to his fallen body and throws herself on top of him. Her action confuses him at first, until he realizes she means to protect him with her own tiny form. The realization makes his heart ache in his chest, and the world blurs from the sudden stinging in his eyes. Her fingers curl into his jacket, and her face is turned away, facing the monster looming above them both. She is saying something, but her words are lost amid her tears. Raphael manages to lift his head enough to look at her, and then he makes out what she is saying-

_Papa._

Nightmare grows still at the sound, and something like a sob escapes the metal helm. Raphael hardly notices; the rest of the world no longer matters. There is no Azure Knight, no monsters lurking in the woods, no people dying in the streets: there is only this girl and what has grown between them. His whole world shrinks and centers around this small girl; he does not notice the sword crashing down only inches from him. He does not see the knight retreat, shaken, into the gloaming. All he knows is Amy.

Months later Raphael would remember the sight of embers burning in a dark helm, and wonder why a child's cry for a father would still a Nightmare's hand.


	2. les yeux bleus vont aux cieux

* * *

**ii. les yeux bleus vont aux cieux  
(blue eyes to heaven rise)**

* * *

The second time Raphael encounters Nightmare it is by his own choosing. They do not meet in the night of forest but in the Azure Knight's stronghold, amid the shattered stones of a chapel baking in the summer sun.

He wonders if he has taken Nightmare by surprise, as the man is not wearing his helm. Raphael is struck by how young the man is - and how much younger he would have been the first time they met. It is a humbling, frustrating thought. But then, he had been a different man, too - a foolish one, barely removed from the mind-dulling futility of life in Rouen's noble class. Now he has a purpose; he has been challenged, and come out stronger for it.

Raphael looks into the eyes of Soul Edge's wielder. They are not red this time, but green and gold; he can see the madness lapping just beneath the surface, and he realizes -

"You're too weak for that, aren't you?" he says, drawing his rapier.

Nightmare raises his gaze, the green-gold eyes flaring red, mouth twisting into a derisive grin. "You conceited, wretched _human,_" he growls, raising Soul Edge, the massive sword slicing through the air as smoothly and easily as Flambert does.

Raphael gives the knight a mocking bow, then lunges forward, aiming for the small slit of unprotected flesh near the man's elbow. Snarling, Nightmare pulls back, drawing Soul Edge with him, the blade slicing through the fabric of Raphael's clothing as he neatly spins to the side, out of danger.

The two circle each other warily, neither one wanting to open himself to attack. Raphael knows all he needs is an opening - he can see the small gaps in the armor where Nightmare is vulnerable, and one clean stroke in the right place will sever tendons or pierce vital organs; then the Azure Knight will fall at his feet. But getting through the knight's guard...for all of the weight Nightmare carries, he moves quickly, and that combined with Soul Edge's wide reach makes coming in close a difficult task. One mistake could easily be fatal - even now Raphael remembers Soul Edge smashing into him, the way his bones had cracked under the impact. He cannot risk such an injury again.

Nightmare waits, feet solidly set. There is no need for him to attack, not when he already holds what Raphael so desperately wants. Raphael narrows his eyes, considering his next move. The knight may be fast, but even he cannot recover from his powerful strikes in time to protect himself if he misses. If he could be lured out into striking first...

Raphael lowers his blade and dives toward Nightmare, keeping his eyes on his sword arm. The knight sweeps Soul Edge in a wide arc, closer to the ground than Raphael expects - but not close enough; at the last second Raphael drops to the floor, rolling underneath the blade. He comes up to his knees, and drives Flambert into the slim gap between breastplate and fauld, the sharp tip piercing chain mail and leather to sink into soft flesh.

A hideous cry rises from Nightmare's throat, sounding more like the cry of an animal than a human voice. Raphael digs his sword in deeper, angling upwards to pierce the knight's heart -

The knight's huge, clawed hand rakes across Raphael's unprotected back, the sharp ends ripping his flesh and drawing blood. Raphael bites back his cry of pain - he only needs a few more seconds, he is so _close _- and then the claws sink deep into his back, dangerously close to his spine and neck, and he is hurled away like a rag doll, Flambert slipping slick with blood and gore out of Nightmare's stomach.

Raphael scrambles to his feet, but Nightmare is already upon him and all he sees is the glint of steel before Soul Edge bites deep, splitting him from rib to hip.

Strangely, at first, he feels nothing - if Raphael did not see the wound, or the blood gushing from it, he would not have realized he'd been struck. Even when the pain finally hits there is something unreal about it, as if the pain exploding in his body is happening to someone else. His legs give out under him, and Raphael finds himself staring at the sky through the broken roof of Ostrheinsburg's chapel. There is heat everywhere - from the sun, from the stones beneath him, from the blood spilling from his wounds - but he is cold and growing colder. He tries to move, but the cold seeps into his limbs and weighs him down.

The Azure Knight approaches, footsteps loud as church bells in the ruined chapel. A shadow falls over Raphael, and he watches the sun disappear behind the knight's massive form. He meets the red-eyed gaze, brighter than the summer sun. Sudden anger and shame rise within Raphael's soul, and he wills it to burn away the cold and propel his broken body into action - but it is not enough. He cannot hope for his own rage to stand against the immense hate and anger that dwells within the cursed sword and its wielder, and Flambert clatters to the ground from his limp fingers.

Raphael wonders if anyone will discover his end here, on the sun-warmed stones of an abandoned castle. He did not tell anyone the purpose of his journey - no one but Amy. He thinks of her, of the look in her eyes when he left; he thinks of her alone, surrounded by people who care for her but do not love her. He thinks of her waiting, unaware that he is gone and the Nightmare they both experienced so many years ago alive and hungry, searching for her, and something like anger - only warmer, softer, _stronger -_ wells up inside him and melts away the ice forming in his veins.

His stiff hands close around Flambert's hilt. The Azure Knight stands above him, Soul Edge shaking in his hands. Raphael lunges forward, his body screaming in protest as he shoves Flambert deep into Soul Edge's unblinking eye. He feels the sharp blade pierce the soft flesh, and a small, triumphant smile crosses his lips before the world erupts in fire and darkness. His last thought is of Amy. She may be alone in this world again, but he has kept her safe from the monsters in the night.

(It is the last day he sees the sun.)


	3. one of the darkened dead

* * *

**iii. one of the darkened dead**

* * *

The third meeting comes by chance: Raphael finds Nightmare's empty vessel in the bowels of the Grand Labyrinth.

Raphael does not plan to attack Siegfried here - he merely wants to observe him, to better understand the nature of the swords the man carries. But when he sees the man who defeated him, rage erupts in his veins and behind his eyes, staining the world crimson.

Not all the anger is his own. Soul Edge had not devoured him that brilliant summer day in Ostrheinsburg, but its roots had sunk into his bones and blood, flowering like a weed in his heart. Before he can stop himself Raphael draws his sword and attacks, wanting nothing more than to tear Siegfried apart.

The ferocity of Raphael's assault takes Siegfried by surprise - he barely has enough time to draw his own weapon in defense, and the dark labyrinth is temporarily lit with a shower of sparks as their swords cross. Siegfried tries to edge away from the vicious stabs, but Raphael - fueled by the malfection igniting in his blood - is too fast, forcing Siegfried to set his feet and brace for the assault, his body buckling under the impact of each strike.

Still - Raphael is not able to break through Siegfried's guard. The blossoming hatred gives him power but crowds out reason, the malfection twisting around his hands and feet and mind and strangling them. The elegant, precise movements Raphael spent his life perfecting turn rough and clumsy, and Flambert clashes against unyielding armor instead of piercing flesh.

By contrast his opponent stands firm amid the flurry of blows, calm and collected as he watches intently for an opening. He deflects some blows with his sword, adjusts his feet subtly to absorb the ones he cannot, and with each thwarted strike Raphael's anger intensifies. Flambert - which for so long has acted as an extension of the cool focus he once possessed - now feels more and more like a foreign object in his grasp; his hands itch to throw it aside, to rip Siegfried apart bare-handed.

"Who _are_ you?" Siegfried manages to gasp; not expecting the question, Raphael falters.

_Siegfried does not remember him._

The realization hits like a slap in the face, a final, unbearable insult. Every event that holds meaning in Raphael's life - the rain of Evil Seed that eventually cast him out of Rouen, his search for Soul Edge, the battle that ended in his hideous metamorphosis - has been shaped by Siegfried's hands; but for Siegfried, he is merely another unfortunate victim, one soul among hundreds wronged, little more than a _commoner_ -

"Who - who am I? _Who am I?_" Hatred wells in Raphael's throat, bubbling out as laughter, the sound too loud and too long in the silent labyrinth. "Don't you recognize the one who freed you?" Raphael hurls Flambert to the ground; when he kills Siegfried he wants to feel the other man's life fading under his hands. "You will know who I am - it will be the last thing you _ever_ know!"

Raphael dives at Siegfried with hands outstretched, reaching for the other man's throat. There is no elegance or finesse in his movements now, only a burning black anger that urges him forward and closes his hands around Siegfried's neck. Siegfried claws frantically at Raphael's hands, gasping for air; in answer Raphael tightens his grip, metal gauntlets digging into soft flesh. A low, hungry hiss escapes him as blood spurts under his fingers, and the thirst that is constantly at the back of his mind flares to life at the smell; suddenly Raphael is overwhelmed by a desperate need to taste the warm coppery liquid in his mouth, to feel Siegfried's last breath as it dies in his throat. Fangs bared, Raphael leans in to taste death on his tongue -

Siegfried manages to grab Raphael's arms, tearing away the hands strangling him and throwing the other man to the ground. Raphael twists to look at his would-be victim, only to come face-to-face with the end of Siegfried's sword. He sees his reflection in the gleaming blade - mouth and hands stained red with blood, the wicked glint of sharpened fangs, eyes blooming with coarse crimson hate - and the part of his mind that is still human recoils at the sight. Raphael lifts his blood-stained gaze, expecting only disgust - or worse, _pity_ - at his current condition, but all he sees when he meets the green eyes above him is shame.

"Raphael..." Siegfried says, voice low and shaking, "...I am sorry, for-" He pauses and lowers his head, his eyes hidden in shadow. " -for everything. If my life were my own to give, I would accept whatever punishment you judge to be fit, but there are tasks I must do that I cannot leave to anyone else." Siegfried glances behind him, to the silent Soul Edge strapped to his back. "I won't let anyone else suffer like - like..." Siegfried trails off, cheeks flushing with shame.

_Suffer like you._ Raphael does not need to hear the words to know what the man is thinking. The rage that possessed him earlier creeps up his throat, still thirsting for destruction, but he thinks of the inhuman reflection in Siegfried's blade and closes his eyes against the rising tide of hate inside him. He may no longer be human, but he is no base animal, either; and he will fight Siegfried on his own terms, not at the behest of the gluttonous sword that has poisoned him.

"Leave," Raphael says harshly, turning his gaze to the floor. He does not look at Siegfried as the man leaves - if Raphael sees the mix of shame and despair in Siegfried's eyes much longer he knows he will rip them out.

Raphael waits for the sound of Siegfried's footsteps to fade into the darkness before stirring. Faintly, he hears the sounds of other beings, evil creatures, moving through the labyrinth, but he pays them no heed; they will not harm one of their own.

The thought brings little comfort.

* * *

(a/n: when Siegfried fights Raphael in SCIII the text afterwards implies that he doesn't recognize Raphael, which always struck me as some _massive fail_ on his part. in his defense it IS dark, but...no, it's still fail.)


	4. i cannot turn

* * *

**iv. i cannot turn  
(the light would make me blind)**

* * *

Raphael lifts his hands to his mouth, wiping away the wetness staining his lips. Looking down, he reaches out to close the staring eyes of the woman lying at his feet. His tongue slips carefully around the razor sharp edges of his fangs, teasing out every last succulent drop of blood.

The arboreal village he'd discovered is flooded with silver, quiet, its inhabitants silenced forever. The guardians of the spirit sword would not offer up their secrets to anyone else.

It was - humorous, almost, how easily the tribe had fallen; for all of their knowledge of the swords they were helpless in the face of one who wielded its power. Some had challenged him, but it had been a futile gesture against a swordsman of his caliber, and most had died before their screams left their throats.

It had been a satisfying conclusion to a frustrating journey - following leads as ephemeral as air, cajoling the gibbering fools that travelled in the darkness for any bit of information they might have, the endless dead-ends - it had been worth it.

Now he knows _everything_.

The only task left is to obtain Soul Calibur. Claiming the blade itself would not be a problem: Raphael already knows its wielder, and the man is clearly unsuitable. Tracking _Siegfried_ down, however, is another matter entirely. Months have passed since they fought in the Grand Labyrinth, and Raphael has no idea where Siegfried may be now.

Still, it is a minor obstacle at most, in the grand scheme of things. Siegfried could not hide from him forever, and when Raphael finds him it will be simplicity itself to take Soul Calibur from its weak-willed owner. And after that...

A new world. A place for he and his daughter, a world where she would have no need to worry about the future, because there would only be joy in their new creation. The months, the _years_ he has spent in pursuit of their goal would no longer matter, for in the face of eternity who would remember the dark, sad years that came before?

He takes one last, lingering look at the village as he leaves, at his mark of triumph. The bright moonlight throws the remains of the guardians and their village into stark relief, fresh blood black against the pale white corpses. He drinks in the image: this peaceful, sunless sight - where those who would challenge him lie dead at his feet - is the world he will give to Amy, when all is finished.

The woods are nearly as silent as the village they surround, save for the terrified skittering of small animals in the brush; they must sense the dark power coursing through him. Raphael smiles at the thought.

As he walks his thoughts turn to his most immediate problem - finding Soul Calibur. Siegfried had not told Raphael what he'd been planning to do with the sealed swords, but his purpose was easy enough to guess - in the grand tradition of well-meaning fools everywhere, he hoped to permanently destroy the object that had brought the world so much pain.

But where might such a journey take him? Raphael raises his eyes to the moon...

...only to find a blue sky above him, the soft gleam of sunlight burning uncomfortably against his skin, and hard marble under his feet instead of decayed leaves. He stumbles slightly, the abrupt change leaving him more than a little dizzy.

The guardians had told him of this phenomenon - how those who sought the soul swords would sometimes find themselves in places not a part of this earth; places that could only be discovered by those with strong enough souls to handle the swords' immense power. Remembering this, Raphael suddenly becomes aware of the power inherent here, saturating the air like rain before a storm. It is not the same as the darkness sleeping in his heart, but it is not entirely different, either; Raphael breathes in deeply, and sparks alight in his veins.

He beings to laugh. He wouldn't have to search for Soul Calibur, after all.

The sword itself has called him.

Raphael walks through the cathedral, following the energy he can feel radiating outward from a source deeper inside the structure. He passes by Grecian columns supporting a fresco-decorated ceiling, past rose windows that cast myriad gems of light across cascading water fountains, until he comes to an open balcony. There, one man stands, holding a blue metal sword in his hands.

"Siegfried," he says simply. "We meet again."

The younger man starts and turns, facing Raphael. "You shouldn't be here."

Raphael's eyes flare with indignation. "And why is that?"

"This place...did you really come this far, only for vengeance?"

"_Vengeance?_" Raphael begins to laugh. "How - how amusing. You think I came here because of _you_?" He draws his rapier, still wet with blood of Soul Calibur's slain keepers. "I only care about the sword you're holding. Not that killing you won't be enjoyable - quite the contrary - but you are a secondary thought, at best." Raphael points Flambert directly at Siegfried. "Why, if you decide to do the sensible thing and give up that blade to someone who _deserves_ it, I may even find it in my heart to spare you."

Siegfried's eyes grow cold. "Power - is that all you're after?" He grips Soul Calibur more firmly, shifting into a fighting stance. "If that's the case, you will find no mercy from me."

They move at the same time - Siegfried swinging Soul Calibur in a gleaming arc around him, Raphael darting forward while neatly turning his ankle to avoid the glittering blade as his own sword aims for Siegfried's neck. At the last possible second Siegfried twists out of the way, and Flambert merely grazes the small section of vulnerable flesh.

Neither man takes time to size the other up, or wait for an opening; they know each other too well, and are too close to achieving their goals, to consider caution. Raphael notes - with a thrilling mix of excitement and fear - that Siegfried is far more aggressive here than he'd been in the Labyrinth, Soul Calibur a brilliant, glittering blur encircling him and forcing Raphael out of range. Raphael weaves in and out of the sword's path, Flambert a blood-stained silver streak as Raphael lashes out with pinpoint precision at the joints left uncovered by Siegfried's armor. Siegfried turns slightly to the side, sparks flying as Soul Calibur deflects Flambert's killing stroke.

For a moment neither man is able to gain an advantage - but both know someone must give eventually. Raphael's concern is Soul Calibur itself - even dormant, Soul Calibur's power chills the air around them, and the evil in his soul trembles in fear of its wrath. But he is almost certain Siegfried does not know how to use the sword's true power, and he grows more sure of this as their battle continues; if Siegfried knew Soul Calibur was capable of ending the fighting he would have done so.

A low, inhuman growl rolls through the cathedral - loud enough to make both men stop and turn - and the energy crackling in the air ripples around them in response. The darkness in Raphael's heart beats faster, and he knows instinctively that Soul Edge has awakened in this hallowed place. Siegfried's eyes narrow.

"_Nightmare,_" he hisses, eyes little more than vivid green slits of hate. Soul Calibur flares with a blue-white light, and the soft whisper of Soul Edge in the back of Raphael's mind becomes a horrified shriek, screaming at him to either escape or kill.

In the end, he can do neither. The blue-white light grows brighter, then explodes, knocking Raphael back into one of the hard marble pillars supporting the cathedral ceiling. The impact nearly knocks him out, but the threatening ring of metal boots running across the marble floor cuts through the pain engulfing him and he manages to raise Flambert in defense just before Siegfried crashes into him, Soul Calibur nearly taking off his head. As it is, the blade is but an inch from his throat; Raphael braces Flambert with his hands to keep Soul Calibur at bay, and his rapier's sharp edge bites through his leather gloves.

Siegfried presses closer, the edge of his blade slicing into the flesh across Raphael's collarbone. Flambert digs deeper into his hands, almost to the bone, and blackened, viscous blood oozes down the steel blade.

"You can't escape," Siegfried says - no braggadocio, this, only cruel fact. "Accept your death proudly."

A small, gurgling cry escapes Raphael's throat. The physical pain is intense; though Soul Calibur barely grazes his skin, he can feel its purity chilling the malfection pulsing through him. The sword is as heavy and immovable as a mountain; every movement Raphael makes only forces his rapier deeper into his palms, shredding them further. But far worse is the thought of failure - to fall at the feet of this soft-hearted, ignorant _boy!_ To die when he so close to his goal he could reach out and take hold of it in his hands! The thought is infuriating, almost too much to bear.

"_No,_" he all but whimpers, and he isn't sure what horrifies him more - that he is able to utter such a pathetic statement, or that part of him hopes it will move Siegfried to spare him. "I can't. I _won't._"

Siegfried's eyes are as cold and hard as the sword he wields. "...Once, I thought you a man of honor. It seems I misjudged you." He increases the pressure on Soul Calibur; dark, malfected blood drips onto the blue blade, crystalizing on contact.

In desperation, Raphael takes hold of Soul Calibur with his mangled hands, trying to push the sword away; as he takes hold his hands freeze, frost running up his arms and through his body. Helpless, he searches within himself for some strength he can draw on - but Soul Edge's malice is ice in his veins, and his pride is in tatters; even his love for Amy - which had stood against death once before - cannot give him the strength to stop the sword bearing down on him.

"I - " Raphael gasps, half-choked from the blood rising in his throat, "I can't _leave her_, I can't -" He is only half-aware of what he is saying, shame and pain and hatred settling in his brain like thick fog as he waits for Soul Calibur to fall.

The final blow never comes. Siegfried still holds Soul Calibur to his neck, but the frozen green eyes splinter like ice, the cracks revealing the loneliness lapping under the surface. "The power you're looking for - it's for someone you love, isn't it?" He pulls back slightly, and Raphael sinks to the floor, his blood cold and sluggish in his veins.

"What does it matter to you, what I do or do not fight for?" Raphael snarls. He finds it hard to look at Siegfried, at the lost look in his eyes; it is too familiar, too much like something he'd seen in himself, forging a closeness to this man he does not want to have.

"When I first found Soul Edge," Siegfried says, his voice hollow, "it promised me - if I had enough power, I could save all the things I loved - everything I'd lost, everything I was afraid of losing. But..." Siegfried pauses, glancing at the glowing blue sword in his hands.

"...In the end, all I did was destroy. Even now, this power won't save anything. It will only put a stop to my folly." Siegfried turns to leave, to face the approaching darkness.

"I hope -" Siegfried calls over his shoulder, "I hope you return to what's close to you, Raphael."

Briefly, Raphael considers following him; but he has his pride still, wounded though it is. He will not shed what is left of it by turning on one who has shown him mercy - galling though the thought might be.

A matter of pride, he tells himself, as he staggers to his feet. It is _not_ because he is afraid - not because the look in Siegfried's eyes mirrors the look he'd seen in Amy's as he bid her farewell and left her waiting in the night; not because the hollowness in the man's voice echoes inside his heart every day he is away from his beloved child. A wave of homesickness washes over Raphael; more than anything, he wants to see Amy again, to hold her close and hear her shy laughter, to see the rare glint of joy in her dark eyes at his return.

As if reflecting his wavering resolve, the cathedral melts around him, giving way to the benightened forest. He does not know how long he stands there, head bowed, wishing for home.

_I hope you return to what's close to you._

Raphael curls his fingers, feeling his ruined hands already beginning to heal. He could return home, but for what? To hold his daughter near and listen to her heart beat far too slowly, to hide her away from the sun that burns her, to stand at her side until the world grows tired of her existence, and destroys her? No, he would not - _could not_ - abandon his promise to her - no matter if the bond they share is snapped in its fulfillment; no matter if his death is the price he must pay.

Raphael raises his eyes once more to the shining moon. Burning red stars streak across the sky, radiating with an evil energy that resonates with the darkness infecting his soul. The discordant memory of lost, lonely eyes is drowned in the rising tide of malice birthed by Soul Edge's revival.

His bitter laughter echoing through the silent forest, Raphael sets his sights once again on Ostrheinsburg.  


* * *

(a/n: this underwent like a thousand revisions and there is a HIGH CHANCE for unintentionally garbled and/or repetitious sentences. i THINK i caught all of them but i can't help but think there's probably some awkwardness that slipped through anyway; if so, i apologize. D: )


	5. fiat iustitia

* * *

**v. fiat iustitia...  
(let there be justice...)**

* * *

The Tower of Remembrance spirals high above the dark clouds, a thin, bloodied dagger thrust through the heart of Ostrheinsburg's tortured lands. Raphael stands at the peak of the dread tower, eyeing the man who has stood in his way for so long. He remembers what he'd heard as he'd travelled - _a man made of crystal_ - and though he'd thought it foolish peasant fancy at first, he concedes now that the description is more than apt. Siegfried is encased in crystal, held together by it; the myriad shards glow from within and refract the rays of the red sun, a sight so radiant the man in the center of it is all but lost.

The fleshy hilt of Soul Edge - the prize he'd long sought, and finally claimed - quivers in Raphael's grasp. _Yes. Lost, weak. His mind is incapable of controlling the power that sustains his pitiful life. Accept my strength, and you and I shall wipe him from this earth._

Raphael glances at the blade dragging behind him. The sword's sheer ugliness never fails to disgust him; it is more a grotesque collection of corpses wrapped around a hunk of sharpened steel than a proper blade.

"Your time will come," he murmurs, making his way to the center of the arena, Soul Edge leaving a sticky trail of tears in his wake.

Amid the brilliance of his crystalline armor Siegfried seems small, practically an afterthought - an ornament on which the spirit sword hangs. His eyes are more blue than green, lit from within by an inner light. Raphael wonders if there is any trace of a human left there, or if - like Nightmare before him - all he faces now is an empty shell, soul drowned in Soul Calibur's purity. As he approaches the unnatural blue from Siegfried's eyes dims for a moment, and he knows that Siegfried is still alive - if not entirely in control.

Raphael stops a few feet away from Siegfried, just outside the range of his sword. Siegfried shakes his head, as if in confusion, and Raphael's lips part in a smile.

"Not quite the monster you were expecting?"

Something flickers across the surface of those blue, blue eyes - fear? Disappointment? "Does it matter anymore? I _will_ destroy Soul Edge - don't think you can defeat me."

Raphael lifts Soul Edge high. The unblinking eye is a fierce, bright red, the hilt hot and damp in his palms; a clear, viscous fluid oozes down the steel blade, disgustingly reminicent of a panting, starving dog. _Wield me,_ the sword shrieks. _Let my power fill your soul and burn away your human weakness. Guide me, and together we will destroy this boy and this world and shape it anew._

Raphael stares deep into the firey, raging eye. "No."

Soul Edge falls from his hand, the clatter as it hits the ground rolling over the arena like thunder. The eye rolls around wildly in its socket, gazing up at Raphael in fury and - satisfyingly - fear. _What foolishness is -_

Raphael draws Flambert, the steel flashing crimson in the sun, and jabs it deep into the staring eye.

A scream erupts in Raphael's head. The poison in his blood catches fire, boiling under his skin, as Soul Edge tries to slay him for this betrayal. The pain brings Raphael to his knees, but he only grips Flambert tighter and drives it deeper into the putrid flesh even as he is forced to lean heavily on it for support. Tiny cracks spider across Soul Edge's steel, splintering it as the sword's consciousness claws helplessly at Raphael's soul in an attempt to save itself. The sword gives one last wail, then shatters under the unrelenting press of Raphael's will.

The tower is silent in the wake of Soul Edge's destruction. Raphael rises to his feet slowly, his body still trembling from Soul Edge's power turned against him. His gaze meets Siegfried's own, the shifting blue-green eyes wide.

_"Why?"_ Siegfried finally asks, voice shaking.

Rapahel tilts his head to the side thoughtfully. "Would it surprise you, if I said you were right - that given the chance, you _would_ destroy Soul Edge, that you could not help but win? Soul Edge's power is..._was_...nearly limitless, but Soul Calibur's is greater still - such is the nature of its existence." He looks down at the bloodied, sticky mess that was once Soul Edge. "Had I tried to use such power, your victory would be all but assured...especially since you have so fully embraced your role as a puppet." A cruel smile graces Raphael's lips. "But I have done away with that weakness, and I will do the same to you now."

Siegfried narrows his eyes. "You don't understand at all, do you? Soul Edge's evil isn't destroyed - you've only taken its place!" Soul Calibur flares with a blinding blue-white light, and the air chills around them.

Raphael shrugs. "Believe what you will, then. But know that when you fall, it will be by my hand, my own power - not because of some mindless sword, not your dreams made flesh."

Soul Calibur is painful to look at, so brightly does it glow. Siegfried's hands are closed tight around the hilt of the sword, but he does not move, eyes shifting dizzily between green and blue, irresolute. Raphael lowers Flambert.

"My earlier offer still stands," he says, not unkindly; Siegfried's head tilts slightly, questioning. "All you have to do is give me Soul Calibur, and your journey will be finished. I have made a memory of your waking Nightmare. Of what use is the sword to you now?"

Silence.

"As I thought - you haven't even considered that, have you? Or - " Raphael thinks of the Labyrinth, and Siegfried's words, _if my life were my own to give,_ " - perhaps you hoped the choice would be taken from you in death." Raphael raises his right hand, holds it out in offering. "Give me the sword, Siegfried. A lost child is not suited to carry such a burden."

Siegfried shakes his head, the churning ocean of his blue-green eyes growing still, flat. "I vowed...the day _you_ freed me...that I would end this sorry cycle of tragedy, no matter the cost. I have shown you mercy before, and you have only tossed it aside. I will spare you no more - the world cannot afford it."

"The world cannot afford to continue as it is, either," Raphael murmurs. "Very well. Play at being the world's savior, pretend it will cleanse your tarnished soul. When you leave this mortal coil, perhaps the pleasures of being a martyr will comfort you."

The light radiating from Soul Calibur grows brighter, until it is blinding to look at. Raphael narrows his eyes and listens for the signs of movement from his enemy, knowing that amid such a crippling luminance Siegfried is most likely to strike.

He hears the rapid metallic click of footsteps on stone, and the much fainter - much deadlier - swish of air parting for a swift-moving blade. Instinctively he leans back - the sword sounds too close to risk moving wholly out of the way - and Soul Calibur passes mere inches above him, the glittering crystal reflecting his bloodstained, shadowed eyes. Raphael thrusts Flambert forward, into the heart of the brilliant light, not expecting to strike flesh - he merely needs to keep Siegfried off-balance before he has a chance to recover. Flambert clangs harmlessly against Siegfried's armor, brittle crystal shards breaking off and clinking onto the ground.

Raphael slips outside Soul Calibur's reach, careful not to look directly at the shimmering sword. The light from blade is not quite as blinding as it had been only moments ago, but it still distorts Siegfried's image, making it difficult to strike at him cleanly as he ducks and weaves around the glittering blade, Flambert sliding over icy crystal shards as Raphael tries to keep Siegfried from gaining the lethal momentum he needs.

The sword catches the light from the sun, flashing off the myriad crystal facets and momentarily blinding Raphael. He raises his hand to his eyes, only to see the massive sword rushing straight at his chest. Instinctively, Raphael stabs Flambert upwards, the slender steel blade sliding into the thicket of crystal shards and stopping Siegfried's charge.

Siegfried stumbles forward, thrown off-balance from the force of the sudden stop. Raphael pulls back on his rapier, dragging both Siegfried and Soul Calibur closer. Siegfried tightens his grip on the sword's hilt, trying to pull away. The two stand, swords entwined and bodies straining, struggling for dominance - and then Siegfried lowers his shoulder, Soul Calibur dipping slightly in response, and Raphael slips. Siegfried lunges forward, the cold, hard blade of the crystalline sword tearing into Raphael's stomach.

_"No,"_ Raphael hisses, as his legs give out beneath him; would fall to the ground were it not for the massive blade holding him up. "I will not be denied again!" He reaches for the glowing orb at the center of the blade - he only needs to wrest Soul Calibur's power from Siegfried for an instant, and he will be able to reshape the world before death claims him. His fingers curl over the orb's smooth, glassy surface, and he feels something stir eagerly under his grasp, a caged beast straining to be unleashed. Raphael closes his eyes, trying to coax that immense strength to his hands, to let it run through him and over the world, washing it clean.

But strong, cold fingers clasp over his own, shutting off the conduit. "Stop this," Siegfried snarls, icy hands nearly crushing Raphael's. "I won't let you use this power to harm anything else!"

_"Harm,"_ Raphael spits out, his blood splattering onto the clear crystal of Siegfried's armor. "Let me tell you what you've saved from harm - _nothing. _This world is awash in misery and pain and always has been, always will be. Humanity will make new nightmares to replace the one you've woken from, Siegfried, and they will not need a bloodthirsty sword to awaken them."

Siegfried's hands tremble under their crystal casing. "That...that may be so. But it's their own choice to make - not yours, or mine."

"Why bother, when you know the world will always choose annihilation?" Raphael snaps bitterly. "Enjoy your salvation while you can, Siegfried. Enjoy watching men start wars over nothing and less than nothing, enjoy the dying wails of the innocents they trample in their rush for destruction, enjoy listening to the world cry out for your sword arm - not to protect, but to join in the slaughter! Watch the world drown in its own blood, knowing all the while you once held the power to end it all, but did not. _That_ will be your redemption."

The faintest tremor runs through Siegfried's hands at those words; but when Raphael looks up the man's eyes are as hard and unyielding as the sword impaling him, and they are set on the far horizon, not the man dying at his feet. Siegfried's lips are moving, whispering; but the cold in Raphael's gut creeps through his veins, freezing blood and bone and flesh, setting icy bands around his hot and angry heart, and he cannot hear the words. He lowers his gaze, watching his blood turn Soul Calibur red. The shame of his failure makes his eyes burn and clogs his throat. Amy will never see the bright future he'd promised her; worse, he is abandoning her, leaving her alone in a world that - in its cruel indifference, in its endemic misery - will devour her soul as surely as Soul Edge would have.

A chill, white fog begins to creep across the ground slowly, with a sound like glass shattering. The cold squeezes around Raphael's heart, stilling it, and

the world turns white.

* * *


	6. et pereat mundus

* * *

**vi. ...et pereat mundus  
(...though the world perish)

* * *

**

Raphael stares into the sun-drenched blue sky.

His first thought is: _I should be dead._

He cannot quite get his head around the fact. He remembers the sword lodged in his gut and the sound of something shattering and the cold that crushed the last beating of his heart. He remembers the world bleached white and his mind and heart and soul emptied out, and then -

he'd opened his eyes and found the sky above him.

At first all Raphael can do is stare, blinking blandly in the bright sunshine. Then he realizes - the sun does not burn his flesh, or sap his strength.

Hesitating, he looks at his gloved hands, caked with dark, dried blood, and pulls them off. His heart jumps at the faint flush of red under the pale flesh, and he raises them, shaking, to his neck, checking his long-dying pulse. It is steady and even, not the sullen sluggish stumble it had once been. He is still for long, long moments, hands against his throat, eyes closed, basking in the simple, delicious feel of his body working once again.

Eventually he opens his eyes again and takes stock of his surroundings. He is still atop the Tower of Remembrance, that much is certain; but the tower is far different from what it had been when he'd first entered. Before, the Tower was merely an extension of the blight afflicting all of Ostrheinsburg, its stones shot through with the poison-pumping veins that had sunk deep into the blood-soaked soil. But now the Tower is covered with a sheen of icy crystals that sparkle brilliantly in the sun, obscuring the blackened stone beneath. It is silent, too, almost deathly so; the only sound comes from his steady breathing.

Raphael stands up slowly, and walks to the edge of the tower. The surrounding land is changed too, the barren soil giving way to a frozen ocean of shining crystal.

Light footsteps break the tower's eerie silence, and Raphael turns to the stairwell leading to the tower interior. The footsteps sound far too light to belong to an adult, and there is something oddly familiar about their gait. A flash of bright red hair peeks through the entrance, and Raphael's heart stops from the shock of sudden joy that fills him at the sight.

"Amy?" he whispers, not quite able to believe his eyes, questions tumbling through his head - _how did she get here? why did she come? what has happened to her, had she been in danger_ - and then she smiles at him, her hand fluttering to her mouth as if she is afraid of making her pleasure so obvious. Raphael falls to his knees, holds out his arms for her, and with a wordless cry Amy runs to him and throws herself into his embrace. Her arms wind around his neck, and she presses her face into the ruffles spilling from his coat. Raphael wraps his arms around her tentatively, still half-believing she will dissolve at his touch, an illusion in this strange dream he cannot wake from.

But he can feel her warmth, hear her heart beating strong in her chest; he looks into her eyes and finds the rusty red that had stained them is gone, revealing the warm mahogany beneath. Amy pulls back slightly, raising a trembling hand to Raphael's face, brown eyes studying him intently.

"You - Amy, I -" He does not know what to tell her; he has no need to voice his joy at seeing her, not when it is written so plainly on his face, and he has no idea of what has happened to cleanse their malfection and buried the world in crystal. "How did you get here, _ma puce?"_ he asks finally.

"Oh, I..." A flush of red stains Amy's cheeks. "...I was worried - I was afraid of being alone. You were gone for so long, and - I came to find you, so...here I am..." She shrugs, shyly, a glimmer of fear in her eyes. "Are you angry?"

"No, of course not - am I ever, my sweet? But -" Raphael pulls back, eyeing her with concern. "You came all this way, by yourself? You have not been hurt, have you?" He looks her up and down, scanning for any signs of injury she may be hiding.

Amy shakes her head. "No, no, I'm fine." Her hand falls to her waist and closes over the hilt of her rapier. "I had Albion with me, and what you taught me - it was more than enough."

"Such a resourceful girl you are," Raphael murmurs fondly, ruffling her soft red curls. He knows he ought to be more firm with her - no matter how skilled she was, she'd put herself in danger and disobeyed his one command - that she stay safe. He could have _lost_ her. But lecturing about loss and danger seem out of place now, on top of the crystalline tower that glitters in the warm sun, with Ostrheinsburg turned silver-white around them. Any rebuke he might have had melts away.

Pleased now that she sure her father is not upset, Amy looks around the crystal tower. "Did you do this?"

_Is this the world you told me about?_ The unspoken words hang in the air, louder than bells in the unnatural hush surrounding them.

Raphael frowns, unsure of how to answer. He does not know what has happened, not exactly, but he has a vague idea of what - and _who_ - could have changed the world so drastically. Unconsciously he presses his hand to his stomach, remembering the cold sword buried inside him, the ice-like hands clamped over his wrists. What _had_ happened to Siegfried? He thought of shaking hands, of eyes shadowed by loneliness and loss; perhaps Siegfried had welcomed the chilly embrace of the crystal that now covered the earth.

Amy tugs on Raphael's sleeve. "Who is that?" she asks, pointing to what looks like a heap of broken prisms on the other side of the tower. But on closer inspection Raphael makes out the darker streak of blond hair and blue cloth amid the glittering shards.

"Someone who should know what has happened," Raphael says. He and Amy approach the fallen knight.

At first Raphael thinks Siegfried is dead, so still is his form; but when he and Amy reach his side they can make out the rise and fall of his chest, the faint movement of eyes under closed lids. The crystal armor that had enveloped him is broken, lying around his body in shattered pieces. The spirit sword lies next to him, whole but dull, the light from within extinguished. Raphael kneels next to the fallen man, and after a moment's hesitation, props the body in his arms. "Siegfried...?"

The knight's eyes flutter open weakly. His eyes are green, not blue, the strange light that had once shone there gone. He is quiet for a long time, his gaze flickering between Raphael and Amy, and a shudder runs through his frame. "I didn't know you were a father."

It isn't at all the kind of statement Raphael expects. "Well...I am." Amy slips her hand through his at his words.

"She's the one you were fighting for."

"Yes," Raphael says, simply. What else is there to say?

Siegfried closes his eyes. The strong line of his mouth trembles, and his hands clench and unclench as if agitated. Raphael wonders, briefly, why such a simple revelation could cause such a reaction in the younger man. But his concern is finding out what had happened after their battle, not whatever personal demons Siegfried may suffer from.

"Siegfried, what happened here?" Raphael eyes the remains of crystal armor scattered over the ground, the dull sword lying by Siegfried's side. "You must have used Soul Calibur's power..."

Siegfried opens his eyes and looks around, as if seeing his surroundings for the first time. "I did, but - actually, I'm not sure how it would work."

Raphael cannot decide if he ought to be amused or horrified by Siegfried's admission. "You unleashed a power beyond measure...and you _didn't know_ what you were doing?"

"It isn't like that!" Siegfried says defensively, his expression darkening. "I knew what I needed to do, but Soul Calibur...it isn't just a mindless tool. I couldn't be sure how that would affect whatever I did."

Raphael frowns slightly, unsatisfied. Siegfried makes a small sound of irritation in the back of his throat. "I should start at the beginning. I came here to destroy Soul Edge, and stop the spread of its blight. But then you came, and that changed things. You destroyed Soul Edge's consciousness, but the blight - the malice - none of it was affected. I wasn't sure what that meant. At first I thought you had simply become Soul Edge's host, but that didn't seem right, either."

Siegfried pauses, worrying at his lower lip. "Then I thought about what you said, about conflict, about humanity...I don't know how true that is. But - Soul Edge was made by human hands, and I thought, maybe it was our own souls, our own darkness, that was sustaining the hatred. So..." Siegfried turns his head to look at Ostrheinsburg's frozen fields.

"I decided to purify everything," he finished. "Not just Ostrheinsburg, or the malfected, but anyone who might have darkness in their heart - anyone who could begin the tragedy again." Siegfried turns back to Raphael. "I didn't know if Soul Calibur was capable of something like that, or who would be left when it was all finished." And then, in a voice so soft Raphael has to lean close to hear it: "I didn't think I'd be here to see it."

Raphael presses a hand to his stomach, feeling the tear marking where Soul Calibur had impaled him, the cloth stiff with dried blood. "You wanted to purify the malfected," he says, frowning. "But Amy and I are still here..."

Siegfried bows his head, long honey-blond hair tumbling around his shoulders and hiding his face from view. "I felt like I owed you something. For freeing me from Soul Edge."

"That wasn't my intention," Raphael says, a note of irritation creeping into his voice. "I meant to kill you."

"I know that," Siegfried says wryly. "But that doesn't change the fact that you _did_ help me. And - if I had been stronger then - if I had resisted Soul Edge sooner - perhaps you would have been spared the malfection. I wanted to make amends for that, at least."

"Did you think I would forgive you?" Raphael traces the scar where Soul Edge had split him open. The memories of being denied and defeated and humiliated, again and again, are burned into his mind as surely as Soul Edge's mark is burned into his flesh. Not even the sight of his former enemy - weak and cradled in his arms, pleading for absolution - can ease that bitterness. "There is too much between us to ask me for that."

Siegfried meets Raphael's gaze unflinchingly. "I know. I did not do this expecting to be forgiven. It's just - there were times when I felt like I was watching another version of myself. You were on the same path I was, once, but - you never lost sight of yourself, the way I did. Soul Edge had you in its grasp, and you weren't..." Siegfried pauses, as if he is not sure of what to say next. "You didn't give into it. I mean - you were not sinless, but at the same time...what you sought wasn't so different from what I wanted, once. I thought - if I could keep you from making the same mistakes I did, it would make up for things that had come before. Not just with you, but for sins past."

The younger man falls silent, then, lost in thought. Raphael continues to support him, those words - sins past - rolling over and over in his mind. He does not know what had led Siegfried to Soul Edge (and he thinks of Siegfried shuddering in his arms, watching he and Amy with guilt-stricken eyes) but he could guess what the man had lost.

He could not forget that Siegfried had stood against him, but he could understand, a little, what drove him to do so. Perhaps that was enough.

Raphael rises to his feet and looks to the crystalized earth beyond the tower. The sight is eerily beautiful, the smooth frozen ground dotted with bursts of sharp-edged, crystal flowers, all shimmering white in the warm sun. "Is the whole world like this?"

Siegfried bites his lip, agitated. "I - it might be. I didn't think so many people would be...found wanting."

Raphael tilts his head, looking at Siegfried in wonder. "Does it really surprise you, that so many are cruel and selfish at heart?" He looks at Amy's hand clasped around his own, remembering the first and only time someone had reached out to him in true kindness. "How childish."

"I don't know," Siegfried murmurs. "I only did what I thought was right." Tentatively, he meets Raphael's gaze. "Was this...just?" His voice is as shaky and unsure as a boy's, heavy with the need for reassurance, approval.

Siegfried had wished for a world without darkness.

Not so different, Raphael thinks, from a world where those who would challenge him lie dead at his feet.

"Yes."

Siegfried lets out a quiet sigh. "I was worried that I had not done enough. I did not want to face my father's soul without knowing that I had done all I could to make things right." He closes his eyes. "Maybe that's why I'm still here. I did not think I would be."

Amy slips her hand out of Raphael's grasp and approaches Siegfried, her expression unreadable. "You're not happy here," she says flatly, more statement than question. "You miss him, don't you? Your father."

Siegfried looks up at the girl in surprise. "Yes, I do." A faint splash of red colors his pale cheeks. "Even after all this time, it's all I can think of - if I've done his memory justice. If I've fulfilled his last wishes." He shakes his head. "A foolish thing, I know."

"_I_ don't think it's foolish," Amy says, her eyes meeting Raphael's.

"You wouldn't, would you?" The ghost of a smile touches Siegfried's lips. "But...I suppose it doesn't matter now. I destroyed our bond a long time ago. I doubt his soul would receive me now."

Raphael reaches out, lays one hand, hesitantly, on Siegfried's shoulder. "I do not think that is true," he says, and the knight shudders at his words.

Raphael cannot forgive Siegfried for the past. But he _can_ thank him for this gift, he suddenly realizes.

He can give Siegfried the peace he seeks.

His hands slip over Siegfried's neck and close firmly around his throat. Siegfried is relaxed and unresisting under his touch, trusting. Raphael twists his hands quickly, firmly, and the man's neck snaps with a sharp crack.

Siegfried's body sags in Raphael's grip, all dead weight. His green eyes are still open, glazed and bright in the sunny blue sky; the grief that had shadowed them is gone. Carefully, Raphael lowers the body to the shimmering crystal floor.

"Why?" Amy asks, curious but unafraid; she is too familiar with death to be alarmed by it anymore. Raphael smiles at her reassuringly.

"I sent him home."

Amy nods and reaches out to shut the empty eyes. Raphael takes her hand, and together, they descend into the new world.

* * *

(a/n: _ma puce _is a term of endearment that translates to 'my flea.' it is sort of an inside joke between me and...myself. this is because in the made-up canon that only exists in my head, Amy is either flea-or-lice-infested when Raphael meets her in the slums so _ma puce_ is _extra-fitting._ i bet you are all thrilled to know this!

thanks to everyone who stuck with this. i did not intend to write a six-chapter fic that would take two months to complete when i first started the meme of five, but because i do not know how to be concise that is what it became. i hope you are not TOO disappointed that it ends with two unsatisfactory (well, _i_ found them unsatisfactory) endings from SCIV smushed together to make one weird ending that has no sense of pacing, and where all the dialog is really just exposition with too many awkward punctual breaks.

but seriously: thanks. i hope you enjoyed it.)


End file.
